There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
I have been despised by better men than you.
I am only a little lion, child, and I vow, I shall not savage you.
Kings are falling like leaves this autumn.
Valar Morghulis - All men must die.
Why should death make a man truthful, or even clever? The dead are likely dull fellows, full of tedious complaints - the ground's too cold, my gravestone should be larger, why does he get more worms than I do.